


Positive Attributes

by bewarethesmirk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewarethesmirk/pseuds/bewarethesmirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His whole life has become nothing but fucking werewolves.  He's been contaminated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Positive Attributes

**Author's Note:**

> It's all crack and porn and I have no regrets.
> 
> **Warnings:** Hints of size kink, obsessing over Derek's big cock.

Stiles is human and therefore can't help but notice that Derek has certain positive attributes. Dude, he can't help it if certain werewolves sneak into his mind at inopportune times – like when he's got his hand wrapped around his dick. His whole life has become nothing but fucking werewolves. He's been contaminated.

One night when Stiles is jacking off, as you do, Derek just invades Stiles' thoughts. Stiles doesn't really get it – Derek is all pouty and morose, with big furry eyebrows – but hell, he'll go with it. It's not going to hurt anyone.

So Stiles eases his legs apart and cups his balls, and wonders what Derek's dick is like. 

The thought nearly destroys Stiles' brain.

Because Derek is huge and muscular, and his dick must be equally huge and… _huge_. 

It all goes downhill from there: Stiles swipes his index finger across the slit at the head of his cock, catches the slick precome and spreads it on his cock. He thrusts up into his rough hand, biting down on his bottom lip, as he imagines Derek's huge, enormous cock. Stiles wants it down his throat, shoved up his ass – both, simultaneously, if possible. Stiles is thinking about the logistics of that when he comes all over himself much faster than normal, grunting and stroking out the last drops of spunk onto his belly.

Yeah, all this werewolf shit is fucking up his life.

*

It only gets worse from there. Stiles tries to forget it. Really, he does. He tries to concentrate on Danny's smile and Lydia's breasts. There's Issac and Boyd (Stiles suspects Boyd is probably hung like an elephant, too, and he tries his best to concentrate on riding Boyd's dick but it just doesn't hold the same appeal). In a moment of sick, sick desperation, Stiles tries thinking about Scott's meager little dick ( _ugh_ ). He's even considered Jackson, who's a total douchebaggy asswipe, but is certainly pretty.

But nope, nothing holds Stiles' attention other than Derek and the allure of his giant monstrosity of a cock.

So that's the predicament Stiles finds himself in on Saturday night when he's in the grocery store picking out some Pop Tarts. Out of nowhere, there's Derek creeping like the creeper he is. Seeing Derek illuminated by the eerie fluorescent lights of the store is surreal. He's wearing a tight white t-shirt, and his arms look positively pornographic. And then there's the tight jeans and – fuck – Stiles has to stop staring. He has talked to himself about this.

"I've been looking for you," Derek greets him.

"Good for you," Stiles says and claps Derek on the shoulder, trying to bypass Derek with his person and his strawberry Pop Tarts safely intact.

Derek grabs his arm and hisses in his ear. "Gerard has been sighted."

"I don’t care," Stiles says, and escapes posthaste.

*

Stiles manages to avoid Derek for about another week, making a number of excuses (ranging from diarrhea to a research paper on the procreation rituals of the praying mantis). Finally, one night it all comes to a head. So to speak.

Derek climbs through Stiles' window while Stiles is trying to google for decent free porn sites. Stiles opens his mouth to remark upon Derek's lack of social niceties, but loses the ability to articulate when Derek grabs him by the _scruff of his neck_ and forces him against the wall. Stiles is pretty sure he whimpers a lot.

Derek speaks low and calm right next to Stiles' ear. "I want to know why you've been avoiding me."

"Um," Stiles says elegantly.

When Derek leans forward so that their gaze connects, Derek's eyes are dark and narrowed. "I need to know," he says, presses closer until Stiles is feeling the all consuming heat and muscle of Derek's body.

"I don't think I can do that."

"Oh, you will," Derek says with a sharp-edged smile. "You'll tell me or I'll make you tell me."

Shivering, Stiles looks down. "I've been thinking about – " He fumbles out the words, feels the sweat gathering at the back of his neck.

" _Tell me_."

"Oh fucking hell." Stiles slaps his palms against the wall. He knows his dick is drilling a hole through Derek's thigh, but he still has to close his eyes miserably as he answers. "I've been thinking about your dick, all right? I'm sure I can make myself stop. I've just been traumatized and I'm in desperate need of therapeutic – "

"Maybe this will help," Derek says in a would-be innocent tone that is in fact the most evil thing Stiles has ever heard. Everything seems to have gone blurry around the edges as Derek unzips his jeans and pulls his dick out.

Stiles stares at it, mouth agape. It is even bigger than he expected, red and angry and threatening. It's long and thick, and Stiles wants to swallow it whole. "Holy fuck," is all Stiles can manage as he's pushed to his knees.

"You want this?" Derek asks, his dick in his hand, giving it a few strokes. 

" _Yeah_ ," Stiles says, opening his mouth, wanting to swallow down as much as he can get. He licks at it, sucks it into his mouth and wraps his fingers around the rest of it – and there's still a lot left. Stiles is licking around it, sucking, rubbing the head against the velvety inside of his cheeks. Derek groans low and a sharp pang of arousal settles low in Stiles' belly as he takes as much as he can, loves Derek's fingers against the back of his neck, bruising. Stiles bravely reaches around to grab Derek's ass and that seems to do it.

Derek is quiet when he comes, head thrown back. Stiles splutters as Derek's come shoots down his throat but he swallows it, tangy and musky, the rest dribbling down his still-open mouth, coating his lips.

Stiles suspects this has not helped his obsession _at all_.


End file.
